Fighting Reality
by Rose DiVerona
Summary: Ziva is hiding a secret from her team. And the truth is more terrible than they could ever have imagined. Post-Season Six's "Legend." AU.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This takes place post-Legend 1&2 but pre-Semper Fidelis, in Season 6.

I don't want to give anything away before you read the first chapter, so please read the Author's Note afterward.

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.

* * *

**1**

"Tony, stop snooping around Ziva's stuff," McGee sighed, sliding his gaze across the bull-pen to his partner, who was, in fact, doing just that.

DiNozzo snorted, rifling through the papers on the Mossad agent's desk. "Relax, Probie. Keep an eye out for me, will ya?"

"No, I will _not_. If you want to get impaled by a paperclip, be my guest. But leave me out of it."

Tony rolled his eyes and shook Ziva's mouse. "Oh-ho! She just sent an e-mail. To a Mr.…uh, can't pronounce the name." He clicked and frowned. "It's in Hebrew. Figures."

McGee shook his head. "Good. Now will you please get over here? Gibbs is coming back any minute, and this paperwork needs to be done."

There was no reply for a short moment as Tony continued to peruse the monitor. Then he cleared his throat.

"Uh, McGee—where exactly _is _Ziva?"

"Dentist's," Tim answered promptly, his eyes back on his work.

"You sure?"

Despite himself, the younger man looked up.

"Yeah…why?"

Tony scratched his head. "Because my Hebrew is extremely bad, but this is definitely a time and date, and that's today, right now, and _this _word means 'gun,' and I don't think dentists usually have anything to do with firearms."

McGee stood and crept to Tony's side, squinting at the lit screen.

"Could be 'gums,'" he said finally, slowly.

"But it isn't," Tony said with certainty.

Tim backed away. "Look, it's none of our business, anyway. This is Ziva's computer, these are her private e-mails. Let's get back to work."

"I think we have the right to know if our partner is hiding something from us," Tony insisted, and he sat down in Ziva's chair.

"_Tony_…" McGee glanced around before kneeling. "This is ridiculous!"

Tony fixed him with a stony look. "Look, you can't deny that Ziva's been acting weird lately. All that stuff with Rivkin—I _know _she's not telling us everything. I want to trust her, but something's up. And I'm going to find out what it is."

His partner let out an annoyed breath, but it was clear he'd acquiesced.

"What's your plan?"

"I'm gonna translate this."

"You'll take too long-"

"Then _you _do it!"

After a brief staring contest, McGee pushed his superior out of the way and set to work.

"I'm only doing this so you'll calm down. Then you'll see I was…"

His voice trailed off as the message rewrote itself in English, and the two started reading. Slowly, Tony sat back in his seat, taking a shaky breath.

"Wrong. You were wrong."

McGee gaped soundlessly, his eyes refusing to believe what was in front of them.

"This must be a mistake. Maybe the translation didn't come out right?" He reached for the keyboard, but Tony pulled it away and leaned forward.

"Tim. You didn't make a mistake."

"But-"

"This explains everything, doesn't it? According to this e-mail, Ziva's meeting with an arms dealer today. Right _now_. She mentions her 'partner,' and I _know _she and Rivkin are working together. They're operating right under our noses. She wrote it herself—'NCIS suspects nothing.' Why else would this be on her computer?"

McGee shook his head. "I don't know, but I think we should ask Abby for help, make sure no one is sending phantom e-mails to frame Ziva."

Tony nodded slowly. "And…tell Gibbs."

"Tell me what?"

Both agents turned in surprise to see their boss standing before them, coffee in hand and a stern expression on his face.

"We found something, boss," Tony said promptly.

"On Ziva's computer?" the man questioned. "Where you don't belong?"

"You might be glad we found this," McGee said quietly, moving aside. "Just read it."

Gibbs sat and read the e-mail. His expression didn't change throughout. He stood calmly.

"Have Abby run a-"

"Planning on it," Tim cut across him.

"Go do that now. And get a location on Ziva's cell. DiNozzo and I will meet you at the car." As McGee hurried off, Gibbs slapped his senior field agent on the back of the head.

"Ow! What was that for?" Tony rubbed his head sourly.

"For snooping."

"But boss, this—and Rivkin—and Ziva…"

"I know," Gibbs said shortly, gathering his gear.

"It makes _sense_."

"I _know_, DiNozzo! Why else d'ya think we're taking the damn car to find her?" His tone was harsh as he stalked to the elevator, Tony following along behind him and quickly rearranging his face to hide the hurt.

_It doesn't matter, _he said to himself. _I just hope we're wrong._

--

"This the place?" Gibbs asked, looking around the desolate warehouse compound.

McGee nodded, glancing sideways at Tony. "Yeah. She's here, somewhere. Or at least, her phone is."

"All right. We're one short, so I'll take buildings one through six and you two take the rest—and watch each other's six!"

"Got it, boss," they said in unison, moving away with guns drawn.

"We might be wrong about the whole thing," Tony said quietly as they approached the first structure. He was aware he sounded as though he was grasping for straws, but anything was better than believing Ziva was a traitor.

"Yeah," McGee agreed tonelessly, taking a breath as they got into position. He nodded at his partner, who peered through the window.

"Don't see anything inside…nope. Nothing."

--

Three buildings later, the two were beginning to believe they had, in fact, made some mistake. So far, nothing had been seen or seemed out of the ordinary.

Tony looked through the small window in the door to Warehouse 11 and suddenly ducked down, his face pale.

"In there," he whispered. "I saw her. There are a ton of boxes, and she was looking into one of them."

"I'll call Gibbs," McGee said, pulling out his phone and frowning down at it. "No service."

"Go get him," Tony instructed. "I'll stay here."

"Tony-"

"Go! I have to make sure she doesn't leave."

Tim reluctantly started back to find Gibbs. Tony was just turning back to the door when it suddenly opened, and Ziva looked out at him. She smiled.

"Why, Tony. What are you doing here?"

Tony rose to his feet. "Ziva, I…"

"Come in." And she reached out and yanked him inside. He managed to hold onto the gun as he stumbled and almost fell on the hard concrete floor. As she shut the door, he regained his footing and turned, SIG half-raised.

"Is it true, Ziva?" he asked.

She looked back at him innocently. "Is what true?"

"Are you…are you and Rivkin…?"

"Sleeping together? Yes, but that is none of your business," she teased.

His hands shook. "You know that isn't what I meant. You're supposed to be at an appointment..." He chanced a glance at the boxes. "What are in those? I'm guessing weapons of some kind."

And suddenly Ziva's friendly mask slipped and her face hardened. Her eyes glittered coldly.

"How did you find out?"

"E-mail," he said simply, suddenly remembering the man Ziva was supposed to be meeting. He wondered if there were other people here—if there were, in fact, guns trained on him at that very moment.

"Ah. You were being a—what is it?—a 'peeping Tom?' Yes? Well, no matter. You would have found out soon enough. The plans I have been working on for years are finally coming to pass. I no longer need NCIS as my cover."

Tony lifted his gun. "Oh, my God…"

* * *

A/N: The first thing you need to know--and should already know if you've read anything else by me--is that I am not a Ziva-hater. In fact, I'm a moderate Tiva-fan. I just wanted to make that clear in case the possibility crossed anyone's mind. This fic actually came to me sometime after "Reunion," because (I'll admit it) I was less-than happy with Ziva in the season so far. I was angry (like Gibbs) when I found out she killed Ari on her father's orders. So I felt temporarily anti-Ziva, and started this.

Now things have turned around, and I like Ziva again. But I thought this was still a good idea, so I continued with it. :) Should only be about three chapters--I already have the second written and know what I'm doing for the third.

Review?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here's chapter two! I'm headed out of town 'til Saturday, so the third will probably come sometime after then.

Warning: Major character death. And some level of gore. You have been warned.

* * *

**2**

_"The plans I have been working on for years are finally coming to pass. I no longer need NCIS as my cover." _

_Tony lifted his gun. "Oh, my God…"_

Ziva eyed him carefully. "You would not shoot me, Tony."

He shook his head sadly and reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

"No. But I will arrest you."

She laughed, and he winced. It was Ziva's laugh, but it _wasn't_. It was too bitter and…cruel.

"Really? I do not think I can allow you to do that." She stepped forward. "Now, you will put your gun down."

He stood his ground. "Like hell I will."

Her mouth twisted, and before he could react, her leg had flipped upward and swiftly kicked the SIG out of his hands. He stumbled backward; and now she was the one aiming a gun at him.

"Look at this; the chairs have turned, Agent DiNozzo."

Tony swallowed his automatic response ("_Tables!"_) and held his hands out defensively.

"Gibbs and McGee will be here soon, Ziva. Don't make us kill you. Just surrender. _Please_."

She smiled coldly. "You really did fall for it, didn't you? All this time…I suppose I am a better actor than my father thought I was."

Tony couldn't believe his partner of almost four years was a traitor, _had been _a traitor all along. All the time they had spent together, all the cases they'd solved…all the things he had told her.

"Why?"

"I work for Mossad. Not NCIS. When my brother Ari killed your Agent Todd, it was so there would be an empty spot on your team. For _me._ I already had the trust of Director Shepard. I killed Ari on my father's orders-"

"_You _killed Ari?" Tony whispered, his head spinning.

"Yes. To gain Gibbs' trust. All this time, I have been feeding vital information to my father in Israel. And you never suspected a thing."

He took a breath, feeling as though he'd been punched in the gut. "I trusted you."

"Oh, boo-hoo. You want to know something I have learned? Never trust anyone." She pointed the gun directly at Tony's heart. "And I cannot allow you to live now."

"I don't think you want to do that."

Ziva glanced to the side as Gibbs and McGee stepped into the warehouse, guns drawn.

"Ah, and here is the rest of the team." She took a step closer to Tony and jabbed the gun into his temple. "Surrender your weapons, or I will shoot him right now."

"That isn't the way it works, David," Gibbs said, and his tone was like a glacier. He and McGee continued to advance.

"Timmy, just because Gibbs is an idiot does not mean you have to be. Put your gun down," Ziva said sweetly.

McGee shook his head. "Not this time."

Ziva clicked the safety off her gun.

Tony chose this moment to act, attempting to take Ziva by surprise by latching onto her arm. With an almost irritable flick, she threw him, hard, to the concrete, and jabbed her boot into his throat.

Gunfire from across the room sent four pairs of eyes flying sideways, and Gibbs and McGee returned fire, taking cover behind crates as bullets flew.

Just as suddenly as the shooting had started, it stopped. In the distraction, Ziva swung her gun around and aimed at Gibbs.

What happened next wasn't at all like in the movies. There was no slow-motion, no triumphant music.

Tony saw what Ziva was going to do a split-second before it happened. Choking through the pressure, he reached desperately for his fallen SIG, fingers closing at last around the weapon.

_Bang! Bang!_

--

A flash of red. Blood spattered on Tony's face.

_Just like—no_.

He dropped the smoking gun with a clatter.

His vision swam as something heavy fell across his legs, and he opened his mouth automatically to call out to Gibbs. Carnage ran into his mouth and he gagged, horrorstruck.

"DiNozzo! Tony, you okay?"

Gibbs' concerned face appeared overhead. Tony felt relief buzz through him, doubly so when McGee's outline came into view.

He tried to sit up, only to find himself shaking violently. He didn't want to ask, but he couldn't help it.

"Z-Z-Ziva?"

Gibbs glanced over at McGee. The younger agent shook his head once and covered his mouth, turning away.

"Oh, God—"

And then Tony did throw up. He tried to kick the corpse off his lower half without looking, but his muscles did not seem to be working correctly. He let out a groan.

"McGee, help me over here!" Gibbs called, taking one of Tony's arms.

Reluctantly, McGee approached his colleagues. His face was sickly pale and he was trembling, but he helped Gibbs pull Tony free.

All three winced when the body met the concrete with a thwack. Involuntarily, Tony's eyes flew to it.

Blood was everywhere—all over Tony, the ground, and Ziva, along with bits of flesh. It appeared that Tony's shot had hit its mark in the side of the head and torn upwards at an angle.

Tony stood shakily and turned away, then stumbled into a crouch as he retched once again. He stripped off his ruined jacket and flung it to the ground, turning back suddenly and looking at Gibbs.

"There were two shots. I only fired once."

Gibbs nodded slowly, watching his senior field agent carefully.

"She got one off, too. Yours threw off her aim. Bullet's in the wall somewhere."

Tony felt himself swaying.

"I'm fine," he told no one in particular. _I will _not _pass out_.

McGee seemed to have found cell service, for he had his phone to his ear and was apparently speaking to Ducky. His voice was surprisingly calm, given the situation.

"That's where we are. Yeah…we're all right." He threw a sideways glance at his partner. "Okay. Yeah. We'll be here." He hung up and replaced his phone in his pocket. "They're…on their way." Now that he was no longer on the phone, his shakiness seemed to have returned. He avoided looking at the body and clenched his fists at his sides, heading hanging.

"Tim? You all right?" Gibbs asked.

McGee blew air out through his nose and hunched his shoulders.

"I-I think so."

For a moment, he looked every bit the upset, ignorant man who had found them on the rooftop the day Kate died. But it was just his expression masking the present reality—McGee had seen more death since then. He was not the Probie anymore.

Gibbs shook his head once.

"Let's wait outside."

The other two followed their leader without question, stepping into the fresh air with just a bit of relief.

Tony leaned back against the wall, his fingers drumming anxiously on the surface behind him. His eyes flitted around and he blinked several times in quick succession.

_Ziva. How could it be Ziva?_

--

The medical van arrived a quarter of an hour later.

Ducky stepped out and approached them as Palmer went around back for the kit.

The elderly man's face was lined and his eyes were cloudy with pain as he wordlessly laid a hand on Gibbs' arm. Then he looked around at the other two, unable to hide the surprise and instinctive disgust when he encountered Tony.

"Anthony, you're covered in-" He stopped as he put it all together, and his expression transformed into what could only be pity of the most intense kind.

Tony only stared back at him, his hazel eyes growing increasingly vacant by the minute.

"Tim," Gibbs interrupted the silence, "drive back to NCIS. Take Tony with you. Get cleaned up."

McGee nodded and accepted the car keys, glancing to his partner.

Tony looked down at his ruined clothing and fought the urge to vomit again.

"Boss, I can't-"

Gibbs nodded and disappeared to the truck. He emerged seconds later with a large plastic tarp, which he handed to his agent. Tony wrapped the cover around his torso and wordlessly followed McGee to the car.

--

The ride to headquarters was silent. A chasm of despair was forming—so immense it threatened to swallow both men whole.

They stared ahead through the front windshield as it started to rain, soft pitter patters against the plexiglass.

_It always rains._

"I-I killed her," Tony whispered.

McGee's fingers tightened on the steering wheel, but he did not reply.

The rain turned into a torrent.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I haven't decided whether this will be the final chapter, or if I need to add a fourth. It actually kind of depends on what you, the readers, want: conclusive ending, or one that leaves the situation open? In other words, do you want me to add some heart-to-heart, possible "fuzzy" feelings and maybe an appearance from ghost-Kate/Ziva...or do you want angst?

Hint: this is angst.

* * *

**3**

Immediately after arriving at the agency, Tony took off for the showers. McGee watched his partner slink away with some concern and the brief thought that it might be prudent for him to keep an eye on the older man; but then he thought of Abby. She didn't know, and she deserved to.

So he took the elevator down to the lab. It was eerily silent; all the lights were turned off. He knocked once and opened the door.

"Abby?"

No reply.

Cautiously, he entered and took a quick look around. There was no one in the outer area, so he headed for Abby's personal office. The door hissed open before he reached it.

Abby stepped out and McGee did a double take. The scientist didn't look any different than she had that morning, except for the almost terrifying expression on her usually gentle face. Her eyes were blazing and her lips were pressed together in a thin line.

She glared up at him.

"Well? Did you find her?"

He chuckled weakly. "I take it the terrorist correspondence was genuine?"

Her eyes flashed. "This is not a time to joke, McGee! Tell me: _did you find _that lying, traitorous bitch?"

Images flashed through McGee's head: Ziva's cruel expression, Ziva raising her gun, Ziva dead on the ground. None of it seemed like the woman he knew (thought he knew) and cared about. He swallowed, and the true reality of what had happened swept through like a tidal wave.

"She was my friend," he said finally. _What the hell, Tim?_

Abby snorted and shoved past her friend. "Yeah, well—_wait_." She spun, and some of the gloom had lifted from her gaze. "You said 'was.'"

McGee nodded slowly, chancing a step forward. "Abby—she's dead."

Abby's facial expression did not change as she registered this. "Gibbs?" she asked finally.

"…Tony."

"_Oh._"

And because he knew that she wanted the whole story, he explained what had transpired in the compound—as far as his own involvement went. When he had finished, some of her anger seemed to have left her.

"You need a hug," she said simply.

He accepted her invitation, wrapping his arms around her stiff figure. Slowly, the tension leaked out of her until her arms were embracing him and he could feel her tears on his neck.

"I trusted her," he murmured blankly.

"We all did."

--

Hours later, Gibbs stepped into the squadroom, physically and emotionally drained. Another team had arrived on the scene not ten minutes after DiNozzo and McGee left, but Gibbs could not bring himself to leave as they conducted the investigation.

The many boxes proved to contain various firearms, and there were three as-yet unidentified bodies filled with Gibbs and McGee's bullets. Rivkin had not been located—he appeared to have fled the country.

All the boss wanted now was a tall cup of coffee and a few hours of sleep, but that wasn't likely to happen soon, even though it was already almost ten. It was too late for the briefing Vance wanted, but there was still plenty to do. First on the list of priorities was to check on what was left of his team.

At first glance, there didn't appear to be anyone in the bullpen. The main lights were turned off, allowing only the small glow from the desk-lamps to illuminate the area. Then McGee's empty chair rolled backward a few inches and there was soft shuffling from the space behind.

Frowning, Gibbs stepped forward and peered over the desk.

McGee was sitting on the floor, his back pressed up against the filing cabinet and Abby's head resting on his lap. She appeared to be asleep; he, however, looked up.

"Hey, boss," he said wearily.

Gibbs nodded his greeting. "How's she doing?" he asked, clearly referring to the pig-tailed Goth.

"Taking it okay, I think. Cried a little. Been asleep for an hour or so…"

"And you?"

Tim shrugged. "I took a shower."

Gibbs couldn't help a wry smile. "Wasn't what I asked."

"I know."

"And DiNozzo? Where's Tony?"

McGee's shoulders slumped. "I tried to stop him…"

Without another word, Gibbs turned and started for the stairwell. McGee stood, pulling Abby up with him.

"What's going on?" she asked sleepily.

"Tony," he replied, before taking off after his boss.

Abby blinked several times before hurrying behind them.

--

The gym was dark except for one light at the far end. As Gibbs had expected, Tony was there. He was circling an unfortunate punching bag, which the lead agent knew had looked just like its fellows the day before but had now been ripped clear down one side. Cotton was flowing out, and Gibbs' first thought was to marvel at his senior agent's strength.

His next was horror at the realization that Tony had neglected to wear gloves.

"DiNozzo," he said softly.

Tony appeared not to have heard him. He lashed out at the swinging bag, and blue and red flew together, as blood was slung through the air from the man's injured hands.

Behind Gibbs, Abby let out a soft moan. Gibbs wished McGee had had the sense to tell her to stay behind. Tony was almost dangerous when he was _really_ upset. Something seemed to snap inside, transforming him from his usual cheerful self into the dark, threatening presence he was now.

"_DiNozzo!_"

Tony stopped and turned, chest heaving, red T-shirt drenched in sweat and eyes dark and unforgiving.

Gibbs pursed his lips and considered his options. The last thing he wanted to do was provoke his agent. He remembered a night after Kate had died; when he and McGee had found Tony in the gym playing basketball relentlessly, throwing the ball around and forcing himself into insane drills. Tony had gone almost feral when Gibbs tried to take the ball away, and only stopped when he collapsed from exhaustion.

Neither Gibbs nor McGee ever told anyone about what they'd seen. Even Ducky.

Most of the time, Tony handled grief and anger by clamping a lid on his emotions, or by drinking constantly, as he had after Jenny's death. It was when he lost control completely that the gym became the primary outlet. When he needed to hit something, without consequence. Like now.

"Gibbs." Tony's tone was cold, almost sarcastic.

"What're you doing?" Gibbs kept his tone cordial, even interested. He hoped to make Tony forget that Abby and McGee were there, since it was too late to send them out.

Tony gave a noncommittal jerk of his head, and though his words were conversational, his movements and voice were…off.

"Training."

"You aren't wearing any gloves."

DiNozzo blinked down at his bloody hands and grinned.

"Well, would you look at that!"

"Tony-" Abby started forward uncertainly, and Tony's eyes snapped to her face. There was no recognition, no softening.

"Abby, get back," McGee said quietly, and she obeyed instantly, eyes welling with tears.

"You don't need to _protect _her, Probie," Tony said, biting amusement laced in his words. He took a step toward his colleagues and held out his arms. "Come on, Abby, I could use a nice big hug right about now."

Gibbs stepped to the side to cover the scientist and clenched his fists.

"Tony. Step _off_."

Tony heard the warning in his superior's voice. He shrugged and spun around, awarding another punch to his target. It was if the others weren't even there.

"It's not your fault," Gibbs began firmly. "She was a traitor. She betrayed us. You did nothing wrong, you did your job. I would have done the same thing—anyone would have. What Ziva did-"

A shriek echoed through the wide room, shocking everything into stillness. It took a disorientating moment for Gibbs to realize the sound had come from Tony, who had paused temporarily in his attack. He resumed, words seething through clenched teeth as he circled and punched.

"Don't. Say. Her. Name."

Gibbs felt Abby and McGee backing away toward the door, and mentally thanked his junior agent for sensing what he was going to do, and for getting Abby out beforehand.

"Ziva."

Tony staggered toward him, eyes unfocused.

"_Don't-_"

"Ziva."

The man swung a fist forward; it came nowhere close to its intended target.

"You-"

"Ziva."

"STOP IT!" Tony screamed, lunging. In his unbalanced state Gibbs easily tripped the younger man to the floor, pinning him down as he struggled. DiNozzo did get one good punch on his boss' jaw, and Gibbs thought he tasted copper before he put it out of his mind.

"It's not your fault, Tony. Stop blaming yourself. It was her fault. _Her's_."

"Let me go-"

"_Ziva _did this. You saved my life; you did what you had to do. It's not your fault."

"No-"

"Tony. It _isn't_ your fault. Ziva wasn't your fault. Kate wasn't your fault. Paula wasn't your fault." He paused and put new intensity in his words. "_Jenny _wasn't your fault."

And suddenly Tony collapsed underneath him, stopped fighting completely. For a moment Gibbs thought he had lost consciousness; then he heard a long, ragged breath and broken sobs. He sighed and loosened his grip.

This was far from over, but he'd gotten his message across. The healing process would begin—for all of them.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I am very sorry for the long wait (yes, I broke one of Gibbs' rules), but in my defense, I didn't initially know if I was going to add a fourth chapter or not. I just recently decided that I had more to say, so I started writing, and this is now the official end. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

**4**

Fighting the overwhelming, almost-physical pain of his heart breaking, Tony saw the next events through a hazy veil. A shape that was crouched next to him--Gibbs, his brain told him--moved suddenly, and other figures came into view, examining him, lifting him, moving him. Tony did not want to think about what was happening, so he succumbed to blessed oblivion.

--

The first thing he became aware of when he woke was the too-fresh stench of antiseptic permeating his nostrils.

The second was sharp pain in both knuckles.

The third, as he forced his eyelids open, was the blurry figure of his best friend huddled beside him.

He blinked, tried to speak, ended up croaking.

"Abby."

Her red-rimmed eyes flew up to his face. He did not miss the trepidation in them, and loathed himself for having been the one to put it there. He remembered what he had done and glanced automatically at his hands, both heavily bandaged under the sheets.

"Hey," she said quietly, her tone unnaturally dull. Her gaze dropped to her own hands, twisted together in her lap.

He swallowed, took a breath. "Look at me. Please."

She wouldn't meet his eyes. "You scared me."

His heart cracked a little more, chinks in already heavily-battered armor. "I know. I'm sorry." His voice broke and she heard it, glancing up automatically. "I was...I mean..."

She gripped the arms of her chair, leaned forward. "It's okay to admit you were scared, too, Tony. I'm not going to judge you."

He nodded, shut his eyes and opened them again. "I was...scared. She...it happened so quickly..." He trailed off as his throat closed up and a tear slid down the side of his face.

Abby's eyes softened, and she leaned forward gingerly and hugged her friend around the shoulders.

"It wasn't your fault."

He closed his eyes again as she pulled away, taking her gunpowder scent with her. She was right, just like Gibbs--but he was so tired of hearing it.

"Yeah..." He felt himself begin to drift and murmured, "...but Abby? Don't tell Gibbs."

--

Five minutes later, Gibbs returned with a fresh cup of coffee. He smiled softly at the sight of the forensic scientist holding one of his sleeping senior field agent's hands between her own.

He knew Abby had been shaken up by what she'd seen, but he also knew things would always be okay between her and Tony. Their bond was something no one else could understand or replicate.

"How is he?"

"He woke up," she whispered, a fond smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Just for a minute." She exhaled slowly. "He was...he was _Tony _again, you know?" Relief moistened her eyes, and she wiped them impatiently.

"What'd he say?" Gibbs asked, settling back into his chair.

"He's sorry." She kept Tony's further confession to herself; it was what she'd understood his request to mean.

Gibbs nodded, sensing there was more but not in the mood to probe.

"You should sleep, Abs."

He half-expected her to protest, but she nodded, yawning.

"Where's McGee?" she asked.

"In the hall, waiting to take you home with him."

Abby nodded and stood, planting a kiss on Tony's cheek and patting his hand as she replaced it under the covers.

"I think he was in pain," she said, gathering her coat and bag.

"I'll see about getting him some medication," Gibbs promised, squeezing Abby's hand as she passed by him.

She blew the bed a kiss. "Sleep well, Tony."

--

As it turned out, McGee and Abby only made it as far as the McDonald's next to the hospital.

McGee could tell that his friend's endurance was wearing thin when they stepped outside and her face began to crumble rapidly. It was past midnight, and the day had been a long one for all of them. So when she began to drag him to the 24-hour fast food restaurant, he didn't protest and bought them both chocolate milkshakes and a large order of fries.

They settled down at a table by the window. Abby absentmindedly dragged a fry back and forth through a dollop of ketchup. Tim waited patiently.

Finally, Abby sighed and rubbed her eyes, pink and devoid of their usual makeup. She reached across the table and McGee met her halfway, taking her hands in his.

"Long day, huh?" he said quietly.

She laughed roughly. "You could say that."

_This time yesterday, Ziva was our friend and all was right with the world._

But no, that wasn't right.

_This time yesterday, Ziva was a traitor just like for the past four years, except we didn't know yet._

Suddenly, McGee felt sick. He put his forehead on the table.

Abby laughed again. "We look like we're holding a seance, Timmy."

"Hm." McGee considered this absentmindedly. _Wish we could contact Ziva and ask _why_ she did it..._

"Why haven't they released Tony?" Abby asked finally.

Tim spoke to the tabletop. "Gibbs said they treated him for shock and want to monitor him overnight."

Abby released her friend's hands and ran her fingers through her unkempt hair.

"I feel so helpless, you know?"

McGee did. He didn't know how to react. On the one hand, he was grieving--on the other, he was angry with himself for feeling the need to do so. He should be angry at Ziva, but it just wasn't in him. There had been too many opportunities to be mad, upset, and sad over his past four-going-on-five years with the MCRT.

Frankly, he was tired of it.

"Timmy, what's going through your head?" Abby asked softly, patting his outstretched hand.

"Is it worth it?" he asked abruptly, looking up.

She pulled back and stared at him, her face drooping.

"Why are you asking that?"

The answer was easy. "We're supposed to protect Naval officers and Marines and their families. How can we trust ourselves to do that when we can't even spot moles in our own agency? First Lee, now Ziva..." He took a long sip of his milkshake to give Abby time to formulate an answer.

She was quiet for a long time. "We do our best, McGee."

"Do we? Or we do we just choose not to see what's right in front of us, because we don't want to believe it?"

"What are you saying? That we should just give up?" Her voice suddenly escalated in frustration, filling the empty restaurant. "Let all the good things we do be forgotten because we make mistakes? Because we're human?" She stood up, glaring at him.

McGee was taken aback by her outburst. And he didn't have a decent reply.

"I don't know."

"I do. What happened is awful, Tim. It's terrible and horrible and it isn't fair, but we're gonna get through it the same way we get through everything else. We have to be there for each other and for Tony, because if we don't trust each other, there isn't anyone else. Do you understand that? You're not going to back out now?" It was clearly intended as an order, but her tone slipped and it came out a question.

Tim stood and scooped their little-touched food into his arms, depositing it in a nearby trashcan. Then he pulled a limp Abby into a hug.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered.

For a moment, it seemed like Abby was going to break down again. But when she straightened and stepped away, her eyes were dry.

"I want to go back to see Tony. He might be awake again."

McGee didn't argue. He nodded and took his friend's hand as they stepped into the night.

--

The second time, consciousness came quite suddenly. Tony opened his eyes and recognized the hospital room; saw Gibbs sitting next to him. He shifted and his boss met his eyes.

"I was hoping this was a nightmare," Tony sighed.

Gibbs chuckled dryly and handed his agent a glass of water. "No such luck, DiNozzo. How's the pain?"

Tony grimaced. "Not so bad. I...really did a number on myself, huh?" He adopted a light tone, but Gibbs was not fooled.

"Yeah, you did. What I wanna know is why."

The injured man fidgeted and kept his eyes fixed on the blank T.V. hanging from the ceiling.

Gibbs was unrelenting. "You're gonna have to tell the psychiatrist anyway, Tony. I want to know why you feel the need to hurt yourself when something you can't control happens." He paused. "Do you do this after every case?"

Tony snapped out of his contemplation and shook his head emphatically. "No! Only..."

Gibbs nodded. "We're gonna work on that. There is _never _an excuse for self-mutilation. Do you understand? If you need to punch something, you punch me. Or at least put on some damn gloves!"

DiNozzo nodded miserably. "I'm sorry, boss." When the older man let that one go, he gathered his courage and looked into his boss' eyes. "There's something that's been bothering me."

"Yeah?"

"Ziva said that...to earn your trust..._she _killed Ari." He paused expectantly, and when Gibbs said nothing, exhaled. "She did, didn't she? Why didn't you-"

"Because she asked me not to. I don't think she wanted to face what happened." He fixed Tony with a stern gaze. "Traitor or not, Ziva must have cared about him. The world isn't split into black and white, DiNozzo."

Tony sighed and leaned back on the pillows. "Believe me, boss, I know. But it'd be easier if it was."

There was a sharp knock on the door and it opened. Abby and McGee slipped inside.

"Thought I told you two to go home," Gibbs arched an eyebrow.

Abby shrugged and hopped onto the end of Tony's bed. Gibbs' gaze turned to McGee, who lifted his shoulders as well and took a step further into the room, swallowing. He had not seen his partner since the scene in the training center.

"Hey, Probie," Tony said, smiling awkwardly. He nodded toward the second chair in the room, opposite Gibbs'. "You okay?"

McGee took a seat and nodded wearily. "You?"

"I will be."

Abby scooted up the bed and cuddled up to her friend, yawning. McGee slumped further into his chair and leaned his head back.

"What about Michael Rivkin?" she murmured.

They all looked at Gibbs, who leaned his elbows on the railing and shook his head.

"Probably far gone by now, but what happens next is up to the Director."

"We should try..." Tony muttered, closing his eyes.

"Not until the psych evaluation, DiNozzo," Gibbs said firmly. "And some time off."

"Don't need time off..."

"Non-negotiable, Tony."

Abby and McGee grinned as their eyes slowly closed...

--

Gibbs surveyed his people as they slept peacefully. He smiled softly.

There was no use fighting reality. Ziva had betrayed them and she was dead. Vance was going to have to speak with Eli David, but no matter what he could do, trust with Mossad had shattered, perhaps irreparably.

They were all going to have to pick up the pieces, together. But not tonight.

_Tonight, _he thought as he closed his eyes and settled down, _we're just going to let go._


End file.
